The Pikachu's Pills Trilogy I: Let's Help Pikachu
by Midwich Cuckoo
Summary: The translation of my Pomóżmy Pikachu story originally written in Polish. Pikachu got stuck under a piano in the attic. His friends try to get him out.


**DISCLAIMER: the story started as my attempt to write a tautogram fanfic in my native tongue, Polish – tautograms are literary works, all the words of which start with just one single letter – in that case it was the "p" one. You wouldn't guess how MANY words in Polish start with the "p" letter and I had no idea myself either that my language contains literally LOADS of words starting with a "p" – NUMEROUS nouns, verbs and adjectives – sufficient enough to let me write a story that consisted just of words starting with a "p" and nothing else. Now I decided to translate it. If you want to see the original one, drop in the "Pomóżmy Pikachu" story – it was received very positively by Polish fans. The story is the first one of my "Pikachu's Pills" trilogy. I added some additional words where the situation called for it, so as the story could go even smoother (and dropped some words that in the English translation weren't as useful as in Polish where everything boils down to the text being larded with as many "p" words as possible) ; this fic is the literal translation. I don't own Pokémons in any way. I would like to thank my BETA, DARKFORD on this occasion – thank you; I'm very grateful.**

" **LET"S HELP PIKACHU."**

(Written by Midwich Cuckoo)

The dusty, practically airless northern attic of the mansion of the Pokémon resembled the muzzle of a frightening item-swallowing monster. The cracked bust of the Pokémon girl Petilil – Pikachu's beautiful girlfriend – for example. The half-transparent umbrella of Pignite, the orange friend of the aforementioned, left there by him the previous Friday. The slightly lengthy novel by Pawniard, raising the issues of the post communistic class divisions. Pachirisu's dusty gilded trombone. Phione's portrait. Pelipper's feather. Also… Pikachu himself.

Yes; Pikachu, crying, crushed by the aforementioned items. By the umbrella, the bust and the Plexi-glass box filled with unusually spicy porn presenting Pokémon beauties ("just look at this; that's Petilil" an excited Pikachu had said earlier to his just as excited friends, as he was skimming through the porn magazine). By the piano. By the withered fern lying under a plastic peacock covered with some suspicious liquid stains all over. The peacock resembled the Pokémon Pidgeot. The panicking Pokémon's sniveling and cries for help was muffled by the squawking of the parrot with orange plumage sitting above the fern. The friend of poor Pikachu, stocky Primeape, walked quickly through the store of the aforementioned items, almost stomping on the crushed Pokémon. The plump bottom of Pikachu under the withered fern, covered with golden fluff, resembled a bunch of ragged oakum.

"You are a crybaby!" Primeape informed the aforementioned one contemptuously, combing his sandy blonde wig with his yellowed fingers. Then he said quickly:

"Friends, come help Pikachu!"

Pawniard slowly came. He had a bad cold and was wearing a practical poplin cloak. He took a look at the windswept wig of Primeape.

"Pikachu got crushed by the piano in the middle of the attic!" he cried in alarm and sneezed.

"I will go to get help. I will bring the Pokémon that can be of use – wily Purrloin, powerful Pangoro… Then I will go to bring the others – Panpour, Pignite, Palpitoad… "

"But Palpitoad brings really bad luck!"

"Bad luck, bad luck…" they heard the voice of eavesdropping Palpitoad. "I bring bad luck, suuure… If there is anyone who does, it must be Pawniard's great grandmother if anyone, because that's not me for sure. Better go bring the Pokémon, you moron. Bad luck, pshaw!"

The chubby face of Pawniard blushed all over, as he got caught red-handed.

"I will, Palpitoad. I'm sorry, friend."

Palpitoad also blushed, then he turned pale. "I bring bad luck." – he repeated again, annoyed. "I! I bring exceptionally bad luck!" he said scornfully. Panicking, coughing Pawniard brought worried Pokémon – treacherous Purrloin, plump Pangoro, beautiful porn actress, tearful Petilil – Pikachu's partner – Parasect – a Pokémon of more than average kindness and lovable Pelipper. Later he ran to bring Pichu. Pichu, resembling the unlucky fellow crushed by the piano, brought a growling dog with him.

"Pignite's Pekingese; Spot," Parasect informed the newcomers. "Pignite lent the dog to Pichu."

"A full blooded Pekingese." Pichu shortly informed the friends boastfully, presenting the tawny coloured dog. He patted the dog in a protective way. "He's beautiful. Fluffy. A beautiful flat muzzle. A full blooded one!" he repeated in a proud voice, petting the dog again. He stroked Spot's muzzle. "Top notch. A beautiful one." he kept repeating; excited.

"A damn lousy dog!" Petilil squealed, panicking. "I almost peed my pants..." she slowly admitted, blushing all over beautifully. The fluffy flat faced little monster, resembling the Pokémon Persian to the newcomers, was growling, irritated.

"A lousy dog?! Wait, chick! I'm going to bite this pert gal on her ass – she will get scared and will stop harassing the whole tribe of the Pekingese" the fluffy pet of Pignite ruminated gloomily.

"Pikachu needs help." Primeape informed his buddies. "Look; what a scary room!" the Pokémon presented the storage room to his friends – "it's full of various items. Trombones, boxes, ferns, a dog bed… Pikachu got stuck under those." the promoter of the idea of help for the unfortunate Pokémon was convincing his kinsmen, looking at them.

"Yeah, it is a scary attic." alluring Petilil timidly presented her conviction. "A bleak one." the beautiful Pokémon girl spoke up again, rubbing slowly a substantial mucky patch covering half of her right fist. "A monstrous one, I would say. It should devour the nasty Pekingese of Pichu. Pekingeses bring bad luck. Pignite, who is an owner of a Pekingese, said this to Parasect. I eavesdropped him saying this the previous Friday. (The irritated dog most definitely decided to bite the plump ass of Petilil – this vile monster.)

"Pekingeses? It's rather tiny, Pygmy-like Pokémon that went green all over that bring bad luck." Pichu provoked Petilil.

"Rather tall differently, eco-friendly Pokémon if anything." Petilil corrected.

"This cursed political correctness." Pichu snorted, defeated. "Stop dinging, pretty. Let's help Pikachu. He needs help."

"The one who does bring bad luck is Pawniard," Palpitoad said, irritated.

Pawniard looked at him in a gloomy way. "Pshaw!" he snorted. "What a vindictive Pokémon we have here!"

"Stop this. Pangoro, put the crybaby above the fern," Primeape said mockingly. To tell the truth, Pikachu was crying terribly, horrified. "A crybaby. A bungler." the permanently irritated Pokémon was provoking his friend. "A dolt. A virgin."

"A virgin?" Pichu asked. "But Petilil…"

"A virgin," Primeape repeated. "Petilil can testify on this. I read Pikachu's diary. He needs some, let's say… pills."

"Stop this." Palpitoad muttered, interrupting his assistant. "Let's help our kinsman in need."

"Our half-wit in need," impulsive Primeape corrected. "A fool in need. A bungler. An unfortunate crybaby." He squeezed crying Pikachu's face.

"A jerk!" Petilil snorted. "A loony buffoon." She powdered her freckled cheeks pedantically. "Primeape is crazy. Pikachu, help is coming."

Attempting to help, she pulled Pikachu, crushed by the piano, right above his plump buttocks covered by a tawny yellow fluff. A parrot's squawking permeated the attic of this Friday October afternoon. "Help, Pikachu!" the fiery feathered parrot kept repeating. "Help, bungler, buffoon, crybaby. Primeape – buffoon. Primeape – bungler. Primeape – needs pills." Later it said a four-letter curse. The bird's swearing got broken by a gloomy song. It was Primeape who, irritated, tried to muffle the cheeky parrot, singing a funeral dirge.

"What an exciting bird" Pikachu said, stopping crying. "A real, cursing Portuguese parrot. It resembles the parrots of pirates. It's hilarious; just hilarious!" the Pokémon cowering under the piano crowed. He stopped sniveling. "Parrot," he asked the bird ingratiatingly – "my beautiful parrot, please; say a bad word, say a spicy bad word, birdie. Repeat: a jerk. Repeat: Primeape – a jerk. Say: a jerk, say this, saaaaay this…" The bird under the ceiling kept silent. It was looking gloomily at the Pokémon. The Pekingese was growling grimly. Pawniard was coughing. Purrloin was jumping up and down, all excited.

"A jerk," he repeated after the parrot which in turn was repeating Primeape's nasty flips. "A jerk, a half-wit, a dolt," he said again, joyfully, pointing with his double-jointed finger at Primeape. Primeape went pale.

"Great." Pangoro, irritated, informed the Pokémon. "Just great. You all need a shrink."

"But for Pikachu," Petilil admitted publicly. "What Pikachu needs is actually getting some, let's say… pills prescribed…"

Pikachu, subdued, looked at the perfidious promiscuous Pokémon girl in a contemptuous way. He was crying again.

Parasect snorted. Pelipper, excited, flew above the parrot. It said a four letter curse, later at least it stopped swearing. "Gentlemen…" "Ladies, gentlemen." Pelipper corrected his friend, showing him Petilil (the Pokémon girl blushed again) "let's help Pikachu. Sorry, friend." he said to the Pokémon sniveling under the piano "Help has come."

Pangoro came closer. The powerful Pokémon picked up the dusty piano covered with a tangle of the Pokémon memorabilia – pastel portraits, Pachirisu's oddly bulgy trombone showing a clumsily made effigy of a Pokémon painted on, porn mags (covered with powder, the previously freckled cheeks of Petilil got pink – the mean Pokémon picked up one that presented the Pokémon beauty, showing it to the excited friends), orange, half-transparent umbrella, boxes of cigarettes smelling of Petilil's perfumes, a pyramid of greenish rotting dumplings left there by Parasect, very large pearls given to Petilil by her previous partner – the handsome Pokémon Phione.

Cheered up, Pikachu began to snivel again, touched. He hugged Petilil. He kissed his partner's cheek affectionately. "Beautiful," he said. The Pokémon girl blushed again, pleasantly flattered by the praise.

"Sorry, Pikachu," she said. "I will ignore your need to take some… pills." Later he fell, prostrate, in front of Pangoro, whispering thanks.

"A smoothie," Pawniard squeaked. The enterprising eulogists of the idea of help given to their unfortunate kinsman by Pangoro – the powerful originator of the plan of carrying out of the aforementioned one – were sniveling. The Pokémon tipped his snout adorned with purple spots covering the cheeks, ignoring Primeape's degrading flips interspersed with nasty scolds by insidious Purrloin, humbly accepting the aforementioned. Pelipper consoled his friend. The attic got left abandoned. The previously crushed by the piano Pokémon swore to himself to carefully clean up the aforementioned attic. Polishing the surface of the trombone, devoid of gloss. Watering the fern. Throwing the porn out (Petilil's idea – Pikachu poignantly protested). The last thing – last but not least – a priority! – taming the cheeky parrot (this is what Primeape decided to do – the other Pokémon took protest).

"Bye, bye, attic," Pikachu squeaked.

"Bye, bye, you unlucky, needing pills jerk." the parrot said.

 **The End.**


End file.
